


Stolen Moments

by MalenkayaCherepakha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Journalist Pansy Parkinson, Mirror Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalenkayaCherepakha/pseuds/MalenkayaCherepakha
Summary: They've never labelled this thing between them, but Harry loves these stolen moments when she's all his.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 111
Collections: Daily Deviant





	Stolen Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the March 2020 Daily Deviant theme 'Celebrations'.
> 
> Thank you Primavera-Cerezos for the beta and Ale for the cheerleading ❤

‘Congratulations on the award,’ comes a voice from behind Harry as he peruses the buffet options. ‘ _Best Seeker_ , and for the third time in five years if I’m not mistaken?’

Harry smiles to himself before turning around — he’d been wondering how long it would be before she came over to see him. He’d expected it to take a little longer, to be honest, assuming she’d be too busy interviewing the award winners and gossiping with the other reporters to come and torment him.

‘Cheers, Parkinson,’ he says, locking eyes with her before letting his gaze travel leisurely up and down her body. She looks good — as always, really — dressed to kill in a tight black cocktail dress that does nothing to hide the curves that Harry can’t help thinking about when he’s alone in his bed. 

‘Got a quote for me?’ Judging by the raised eyebrow and the glint in her eye, Pansy hasn’t missed the way Harry looked at her. Not that Harry had been trying to hide it; he’s long past the point of trying to conceal what she does to him, although it is fun to hold back as long as he can, letting the anticipation build. It’s just what they do. 

‘Not a chance,’ he shoots back, his blood quickening as they slip into their usual pointed banter. ‘No way I’m giving that rag you work for anything.’

‘That ‘rag’ as you call it helped make your career, you know.’

‘That paper has been a thorn in my side ever since I joined the team — which I know you’re well aware of.’

‘Ah, but without that rag we would never have got to know each other better, and wouldn’t that be a tragedy?’ 

Pansy’s got him there, he has to admit. When he’d turned up to his first interview with the paper as a new recruit, fresh out of his training period and excited to finally get a chance to start a match, he’d nearly turned and walked right back out of the room when he’d realised that Pansy would be the one interviewing him. He begrudgingly dealt with the press, recognising their importance for his career, but, well, giving an interview to the person who’d offered to send him to his death was a step too far. It was only the fear of being kicked off the team before he’d even played a single game that made him take a seat in front of Pansy and give the shortest possible answers to her questions.

That hadn’t been the end of it though. Pansy had apparently been assigned the role of _Harry Potter’s personal journalist and nightmare_ by her newspaper, because suddenly she was everywhere: on the sidelines of all his games, in the press room afterwards, at every industry party he was forced to attend. Despite the ferocious reputation she was building, Pansy’s coverage of Harry and his team tended to be less scathing than he expected — she saved her truly withering takedowns for teams doing much worse in the league — and to his great surprise he found himself actually enjoying the multiple interviews he did with her. He didn’t know whether it was because they’d known each other at school or because Pansy just naturally didn’t give a shit, but she was less delicate with him than other reporters, more willing to treat him as just another player rather than as _Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World._

__When Harry won his first_ Best Seeker _award at the annual end of season gala, his management called him in to a meeting and insisted that he do an in depth interview to really capitalise on the publicity from the award. Harry hadn’t been happy but when his manager finally wore him down, he found himself saying that he would do the interview, but only if it was with Parkinson.__

__That’s when it all started, this thing between them that they’ve never really discussed or labelled, this nebulous push and pull and want and desire that brings them together time after time in a burst of pleasure that Harry’s never experienced with anyone else._ _

__The interview had been different right from the start, from the minute they’d met in a local hotel bar — neutral territory, Pansy had said — something charged in the atmosphere as Pansy’s pointed questions took on a flirtatious tone, Harry unable to look away from her lips with their red lipstick stain. Their coupling had been as brilliant as it was unexpected, the image of Pansy falling apart around him in an anonymous hotel room burned into Harry’s mind forever, a memory he comes back to time and time again as he spills over his own fingers in his own bed._ _

__They’ve slept together multiple times since then, never exactly seeking each other out on purpose but rather taking advantage of the ways their jobs force them to interact. They’ve fucked in locker rooms and hotel bathrooms and on one memorable occasion in the stadium stands after Pansy had reported on a practice. It’s always incredible, and Harry keeps expecting the novelty to wear off, but something about Pansy drives him crazy, turns him on more than anyone has in a long, long time._ _

__Harry knows that’s where tonight is leading, but he’s content to enjoy the dance, let the need build between them until they finally come together, explosively._ _

__‘I suppose I do have something to thank them for, then,’ Harry muses in response to Pansy’s comment. ‘Maybe I should write a letter to the editor to say thank you.’_ _

__‘And how would that go?’ Pansy laughs, her dark hair catching the light as her head moves. ‘To the Editor: thank you for employing Ms Parkinson and as a result ensuring that my interviews always come with a happy ending?’_ _

__‘I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘cheers for the orgasms’,’ Harry chuckles. ‘Keep it simple, you know?’_ _

__‘They are good orgasms, I’ll give you that.’ Pansy is standing close to Harry now, closer than two professional acquaintances would, and from this angle Harry has an incredible view down her cleavage._ _

__Harry opens his mouth, ready to respond, when Pansy’s name is called from their left. Harry turns to see her boss approaching them, and he stifles a groan — he hates Douglas Bennett, both for interrupting such a promising conversation and for the way he treats Pansy. Pansy has complained about her boss more than once as they catch their breath in between rounds, and Harry loathes the man despite barely having exchanged ten sentences with him._ _

__‘Congratulations, Mr Potter,’ Bennett says, Harry plastering a fake smile on his face as he murmurs his thanks in response. ‘Apologies for interrupting, but I must borrow Parkinson. One of our financial backers has been dying to meet her, and we wouldn’t want to deprive him of that, would we?’_ _

__And before Pansy can get a single word out, Bennett is manoeuvring her away, leading her to the other side of the ballroom. Pansy turns and mouths _later_ over her shoulder, the heat in her eyes sending a shiver of need racing down Harry’s spine. _ _

__‘Later’ ends up being several hours after Pansy is dragged away, hours that Harry fills with small talk with league bigwigs, jokes with his increasingly drunk teammates, and a slow but steady stream of champagne from the trays being passed around by suited waiters. He keeps meeting Pansy’s gaze from across the room, and the quirk of her lips as they make eye contact promises so much, if only he can wait just a little longer._ _

__When Pansy finally escapes, walking past Harry and throwing him a look that he knows means _follow me_ , Harry wants to cry with relief. Waiting, watching her in that tight dress as she works the party, her laugh carrying over the sound of the crowd, has been torture, and he’s barely been able to focus on all the people congratulating him on his win, his mind too caught up in visions of what they might do together. _ _

__Harry follows Pansy out of the ballroom, keeping a bit of distance between them — they aren’t necessarily trying to _hide_ whatever this is between them, but they’ve come to an almost unspoken agreement to not flaunt it either. Harry knows it could be tricky for Pansy’s career in particular if it came out, so he’s more than happy to keep things discreet. _ _

__Well, relatively discreet, he thinks, as he spots Pansy walking through the door to the ladies bathroom. Pansy does have a bit of a weakness for public places, after all._ _

__When Harry enters the bathroom, automatically casting wandless locking and silencing charms as the door swings shut behind him, Pansy is sat on the counter, legs crossed, her high-heeled feet swinging slightly in the air. The smirk on her face sends heat shooting straight to Harry’s groin and his cock thickens in his suit trousers._ _

__‘Well this is nice,’ Harry says, looking around the bathroom. It is — the manor where the ball is being held is luxurious, opulent, and its bathrooms are no different. Soft lighting glows around them, a subtle floral smell emanating from the bouquet of flowers in one corner. There’s a large gilt mirror above the counter Pansy sits on, and another full length mirror to the side, letting Harry see his profile. Compared to some of the bathrooms they’ve fucked in since they started this thing, it’s unbelievable._ _

__‘Mm,’ Pansy hums in agreement. ‘This is nicer though,’ she adds, reaching out a manicured hand to stroke the dark green silk of Harry’s tie._ _

__‘Thought I should probably represent the team,’ Harry says, taking a step closer, one of his hands coming to rest on the bared skin of Pansy’s thigh._ _

__‘And here I was thinking you were letting out your inner Slytherin,’ Pansy murmurs, before giving his tie a tug, pulling him in for a blistering kiss._ _

__They’ve never been the take it slow type, and after so many hours of eye fucking across a crowded ballroom, Harry has no interest in taking it slow tonight either. He doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. It’s like as soon as he feels Pansy’s soft, supple skin under his fingertips he’s gone, lost in the need to touch, taste, feel._ _

__Pansy moans, her lips opening and letting Harry’s tongue slip in, her hands moving to tangle in his hair as they kiss, her legs uncrossing to let Harry in closer. Harry’s hands are slipping further and further up her thighs, pushing the hem of her dress up higher, revealing more skin as they slowly creep towards the place he’s desperate to touch. His cock is already painfully hard, straining against the zip of his trousers, and he wants nothing more than to thrust, to rub up against the heat hidden behind Pansy’s lacy knickers. He’s so turned on he thinks that alone would be enough to get him there._ _

__But he wants more. They don’t get to do this very often, and he wants to make the most of it, experience as much as possible to sustain him until the next time they can sneak away together. He doesn’t want to stop kissing Pansy, but he forces himself to pull away, ignoring Pansy’s noise of protest. It quickly turns into a moan, however, as he sinks to his knees in front of her, his intentions clear._ _

__Pansy wriggles as Harry pushes at her dress, letting it ruck up around her waist, revealing the black lace of her underwear. Harry spreads her thighs further, then reaches round to grip her arse, pulling her closer. He kisses the soft skin of her inner thighs, smiling at the frustrated noise Pansy makes at his teasing. She drives him mad; it’s only fair that he gets to do the same to her sometimes._ _

__Pansy’s hands are tight in his hair, pulling slightly as he inches ever closer to the thin lace that does little to hide how badly she wants him. When he drops the smallest kiss right in the centre of the scrap of lace, right where he knows her clit is hiding, she shudders, a whine escaping her, and Harry can’t hold back any longer. He pulls at her knickers, sliding them down her legs, letting them drop to the floor, not caring where they land. He’s far more interested in his newfound access to Pansy’s clit, and he doesn’t hold back, licking and sucking as one of his fingers slides along her folds, seeking entrance. Pansy’s so wet that he slips in easily, and he starts to take her apart, first one then two fingers working in tandem with his tongue to reduce Pansy to a shaking, gasping wreck._ _

__His own need has taken a back seat, all his attention focused on Pansy, but when she clenches around his fingers, moaning as she comes, his desire rushes back with full force. Even as Pansy shudders through the last of her orgasm he’s scrambling to his feet, shrugging off his suit jacket and untucking his shirt._ _

__‘Keen, are we?’ Pansy chuckles._ _

__‘Merlin, yes,’ Harry says, not even bothering to hide his eagerness. ‘I’ve been dying to get inside you all evening. It’s been too long.’_ _

__‘It definitely has,’ Pansy agrees, and then she’s sliding off the counter, turning so that her bum presses against the bulge in Harry’s trousers._ _

__She grinds back into him, the perfect height thanks to the stilettos that she’s kept on — and Merlin if that isn’t unbearably sexy — and Harry can’t stop his hips bucking forwards, his eyes shutting as he chases the pressure. It’s good, too good already, a tantalising promise of the pleasure that is waiting for him._ _

__‘Potter,’ Pansy moans, turning to look over her shoulder at him, her eyes wild, her cheeks pink, her perfect hair mussed. ‘Fuck me? Please?’_ _

__And christ, the sound of Pansy begging for his cock is too much for Harry to bear. She’s not the begging type, normally far too in control and in charge, and Harry thinks he might have to change that, now he knows how sweet it is to hear her ask for him to fuck her. But not today, not right now — he can’t wait long enough for that. He tucks that thought away for later and hurriedly undoes his flies, releasing his aching cock. Pansy whimpers as he rubs the head against her folds, and then he’s sinking into that delicious heat, his loud groan making him glad he’d thought to put up a silencing charm._ _

__Pansy starts to rock in front of him, and he begins to thrust, picking up the pace as his hands slip to grip tightly onto Pansy’s hips. He knows she likes it hard and fast when they’re like this, tucked away somewhere just out of public view, and he gives her what she wants, moving quicker and quicker in response to her moans. He can see Pansy’s face in the mirror in front of them, watches the way her mouth falls open as he slams into her hard, thrilling as she locks eyes with him, a flirtatious grin spreading across her face._ _

__‘Like what you see, Potter?’_ _

__‘God, you know I do,’ Harry groans, his rhythm stuttering at Pansy’s words._ _

__‘Remind me to show you the floor to ceiling mirror in my bedroom some time. The view would be so fucking hot,’ Pansy says, before her words turn into a groan, her eyes sliding shut as Harry moves a hand down to her clit. They’ve never talked about going back to each other’s houses before, and Harry knows that’s something to consider later, but for now, his mind is too full of images of fucking Pansy in front of a full length mirror, of watching her riding him. He desperately wants to make that happen, and soon. Pansy always looks incredible during sex, always giving herself over fully to the pursuit of pleasure, and he’d love nothing more than to watch her in a mirror as she loses herself in the feel of his cock inside her._ _

__‘Fuck, I’m close,’ he moans, his orgasm building deep in his gut. He focuses all his attention on stroking Pansy’s clit, determined to get her there before he does._ _

__Pansy is shaking, her thighs trembling and her quick breath fogging up the mirror, and then with a loud cry she’s falling apart around him. Harry watches her face in the mirror, watches the way her mouth opens, her eyelids fluttering, her chest moving rapidly as she gasps, never looking away from him. Seeing her lose control like this, so different from the polished image she likes to present, is unbelievably erotic, and combined with the feel of her coming around him, pushes him over the edge. The world loses focus, greying around the edges as he spills inside her, shocks of pleasure racing through his body. It’s as brilliant and mind blowing as it always is, and Harry just can’t get enough of this feeling._ _

__He drops his forehead to rest against her upper back as they both try and catch their breath, Harry twitching as the final aftershocks run through him. He’s exhausted now, his legs aching and the desire for sleep overtaking him as it always does after he comes. He wants nothing more than to drag Pansy over to the comfortable armchair in the other corner of the bathroom, to have her curl up on his lap as they both drift off, but that’s not what they do. They fuck, and that’s it._ _

__Pansy shifts underneath him, bringing him back into his body, her huffs of discomfort making him aware of the way his weight is pressing her against the counter. He pulls back with a muttered _sorry_ , and waves a hand, casting cleaning spells over both of them. It wouldn’t do to go back to the ballroom looking so wrecked, not if they want to keep this quiet. Pansy adjusts her dress, touches up her lipstick and smooths her hair in the mirror as Harry tucks himself back into his trousers, trying to make himself look as presentable as possible. They don’t say much, Harry unwilling to break the contented silence that’s fallen between them with trite words that only serve to highlight the temporary nature of their arrangement. _ _

__Once she’s fixed her makeup and is ready to leave, Pansy comes up to Harry, stopping just in front of him. She reaches up a small hand to cup his cheek, a touch that Harry can’t help but lean into, just for a moment. Then she surprises Harry by leaning up and dropping the lightest kiss on his lips before she drops her hand and turns to the door._ _

__‘See you at the next one, then,’ Pansy says, a small smile on her face as she gently strokes Harry’s cheek before dropping her hand and walking to the door._ _

__‘Yeah,’ Harry replies just before she walks out, his voice rough, the word sticking in his throat as he tries to stop himself asking when exactly that might be._ _

__‘I’m looking forward to it already,’ he adds quietly, Pansy shooting him a small smile as she disappears through the door, back out into the party. Harry follows behind, preparing himself to go back to pretending there’s nothing building between them, that Pansy hasn’t taken up permanent residence in his thoughts and soul._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are hugely appreciated, I'd love to know what you thought ❤


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